


Aware

by Wakahisa_S



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, Drugs, M/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakahisa_S/pseuds/Wakahisa_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A-wa-re: the bittersweetness of a brief and fading moment of transcendent beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 一 | Ichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aware is actually a word to describe the bittersweetness of a brief and fading moment of transcendent beauty.  
> It does NOT mean "the bittersweetness of a brief and fading moment of transcendent beauty". 
> 
> Aware to me means to describe the notion of something beautiful. 
> 
> This story will receive very slow updates. And I mean VERY slow. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> EDIT: It's 2017 and I'm finally updating. This chapter is so cringe worthy, but I've fixed a lot of shitty mistakes. Enjoy. 
> 
> Song mentioned is "Bullseye" by KDrew

Takaba Akihito fell onto his bed, wiped out from a day’s worth of crap work. The muscles in his legs and lower back were tense and sore from trying to outrun Mitarai after receiving what was suppose to be the scoop of the month, featuring an exclusive interview and photo shoot with Momohara Ai. Yamada-san thought it funny to assign five different photographers and see who made it first. In the end, neither Takaba nor Mitarai got the scoop, though it severed Mitarai right. That old man fought as dirty as his language.

Akihito sighed and draped an arm over his eyes. They were still dry from being in the sun all day in his attempt to beat the competition. At one point he’d tripped and landed on his camera bag because a fly flew right into his eye. The fact that it probably rolled to the back of his eyeball was unappealing. He shivered just thinking out it.

A sudden ring pulled the young photographer back to the present as he reached for his back pocket and pulled out a silver flip phone. There was a tiny caller ID bar that flashed the name of one of his best friends. He smiled and flipped it open to press the accept button.

“Hey,” Takaba answered, “What’s up? I thought you were helping Takato pack?” Takaba originally offered to help Kou and Takato pack the latter’s clothing and worldly possessions, but when one of the best career opportunities came up, he apologized profusely, letting his friend know he’d make it up.

“We’re heading out for Takato’s departure party!” Kou shouted excitedly, “Taking a cab to your place, so please be ready!”

Akihito groaned and rolled over on his stomach so the bedroom light who stop hurting his eyes. I forgot…and now he couldn’t ask for a rain check. Takato was going for who knows how long. They might not ever see each other for a year or more. But even the thought of standing up was making him sick.

“Where are we going? What should I wear?” Takaba questioned, rolling onto the floor with a soft thump! He opened the bedroom window slightly, enjoying the cool and refreshing air. He walked over to his closet and opened it.

Kou paused, “Hm, wear something classy but sexy, and it’s a surprise!" In the background, he could hear Takato reprimanding Kou about his voice level.

“Give me time to shower; I’ll be out the door in less than thirty minutes.” Takaba raked a hand through his tangled hair, scratching his scalp and grimacing at the oily scent. He hung up and threw the item on his bed, trying to find something classy yet sexy at the same time. He was a freelance photographer; there wasn’t much he could afford on his salary that met the criteria.

“Eh, skinny jeans and a white button up shirt? Should I add a tie?” Akihito thought aloud. No, a tied wouldn’t be necessary, so he took said pair of pants and shirt and threw them on his bed. The shower was fifteen minutes; the hot water that came down on his face and ran down the arch in his back was what he needed to loosen up those tense muscles. It was a temporary relief, nothing long-lasting, but it felt nice in the moment. Drying and styling his hair took ten minutes, and adding eyeliner took less than five.

“Akihito! Come on man, it’s been thirty minutes!” He could hear Kou’s muffled voice from his bedroom and shouted, “I’m just getting dressed!”

“Well, hurry up, we don’t have all night,” Kou grumbled and presumably walked away. Takaba sighed, something he’d been doing all day, and hurried to squeeze into the black skinny jeans, that were unfortunately too tight. Even with his flat stomach and narrow hips, he couldn’t seem to get the button into the hole and groaned.

Giving up on the task, he slipped the white shirt on, glad it had been sitting in his closet pre-ironed and smelling fine. He tucked the ends of the shirt into the skinny jeans and tried to button the pants again. He bent over and pulled up, then finally managed to fit the button into the hole as he slowly stood straight.

“Wallet, wallet…” he mumbled, checking inside his camera bag and forcing the brown leather wallet into his back pocket. He checked everything and made sure to grab his keys before locking up and heading towards the cab. Kou was in the passenger seat, chatting up the cabbie that seemed as if he was regretting his career choices. Takaba chuckled and slipped in the back with Takato, who leaned over to hug his friend.

Takato smiled when he let go, “It’s really good to see you.”

“You saw me this morning,” Takaba laughed. He looked the young doctor up and down, admiring his casual apparel. “How is everything? Did you guys finish packing?

Takato nodded, “Everything except the currency exchange is done, and Kou was more helpful than you’d think.”

“Hey! I heard that.” Kou pouted through the plastic divider. Both men rolled their eyes and Takato grinned, “You were a great help, more so than Akihito.”

Takaba frowned, “It’s not my fault…”

“Just teasing you,” Takato winked. The rest of the cab ride was filled with obnoxious stories, shouting, and eventually, nervous chatter as Kou teased them about where they were going.

Eventually, the cab came to halt after a decent amount of time – the sky hadn’t gotten any darker from its light navy blue shade – and they got out in front of a large red and black building. The large red sign on the front of the building read: Kurabu Pandora, Club Pandora. Three men in black suits carried clipboards and checked IDs. The line at the front stretch so long it wrapped around the block.

“Yikes,” Takaba furrowed his brows, “How long is it going to take to get inside?”

Kou grinned and straightened out his jacket, “Not long at all.” He stepped up to the bouncers and announced his full name, including a party of two. The men looked skeptical, but as their eyes traveled down several pages they found his name and asked for identification. He took out his ID and the man who took it handed the card back.

“Table 121, sir. Drinks are complimentary; enjoy your evening with Club Pandora.” The man nodded and stepped aside after checking their IDs, watching as Kou walked in the club and others trailed behind him.

“Shit, man, how much did this cost?” Akihito yelled, the music already deafening.

Kou shrugged, “Not too much. Don’t worry about it. Enjoy it.”

Takato ran a hand through his hair, “I feel a little out of place,” he gestured toward his attire. “You both look like you belong.”

The other laughed and slapped his friend on the back, “That’s because when I told you to dress classy but sexy, you refused unless you knew where we were going. Now, where’s our table?”

“There,” Takaba pointed over in a far corner, on the other side of the dancing mass. Even from the front of the entrance, Akihito could see it was their table because of the white sign with their number in red lighting. They squeezed their way through the bodies, managing at one point to lose Takato, and slipped into their booth.

“I’ll sit on the edge,” Takaba offered and rest his head on the glass table. The glass was bordered with red lights that shone dimly. He liked the décor here, it was different. The music was loud but it held a decent beat that the crowd swayed to with passion. Strobe lights flashed different shades of red and gold on to the crowd and white streams of light pierced the bodies as well.

A pretty waitress stopped by their table with a notepad. She smiled and asked if they wanted drinks or anything to eat. Everyone decided they would eat something later and Kou gladly ordered alcohol while the other two decided on water.

The music suddenly died down and people looked around, confused. The three men watched as people in the crowd facing the DJ began yelling and throwing their hands in the air. The DJ had on a pair of light red sunglasses and a cap on backward. He smirked towards the crowd and lifted his hand. The lights turned off except for on the sides and in front of the DJ. Immediately, everyone became silent.

“What’s going on?” Takaba muttered and thanked the waitress when she came back. He sipped on his water, looking at the crowd through his lashes. People had stopped arguing and yelling at the man. His hand was suspended in the air and he wiggled it, teasing the crowd. Besides the chatter off to the sides, everyone was silent. Then, as the DJ started to put his hand down, slowly and tantalizing, music started playing. It was an intro, electronic piano, and basic sound board moves. Takato nodded his head, sampling the fast paced music.

About ten seconds into the song, the bass dropped low and Takaba felt the corners of his mouth quirk. Kou had already crawled from underneath the table and was dragging both men out to the crowded dance-floor. He had that wide grin on his face which served as a telltale that he was planning something.

They were still sampling the beat, inklings of electronic piano, SFX, and heavy beats, but it was enough for Takaba and other people starting swaying their hips, finding the tempo and matching it. There was no excessive chatter on the dance floor, just the continuous echo of heartbeats pounding erratically.

Takaba could feel the rush of euphoria that enveloped him as the DJs hand came to rest, disappearing in the dark, and a single word sounded out.

“ _Bullseye_.”

All hell broke loose.

Takaba found himself laughing as he lost sight of Takato and Kou, who was swept away by the crowd. He threw his hands in the air like everyone and wiggled his firm hips, shirt popping out of his jeans and rising just above his belly button. The strobe lights caressed his soft skin, displaying his blissful expression to all who looked.

The bass dropped again, as well as his hands, but brought itself up and he tossed his head up, neck exposed to the world. The lights continued to sway back and forth, his vision slowly transforming into a blur of red and white, the sound of the song in sync with his heart.

A blonde came beside him, evading his personal space as he twisted back and forth. She looked at him with hooded eyes and painted lashes, crooked a finger from him to her even as people constantly bumped into them. Takaba thought she looked fake as hell but his mind was elsewhere as he grabbed the woman by her hips and spun her around.

He didn’t really see the woman, just a blob of skin and blurred features, tainted by a perfume that would cling to his skin for days.

The sweat from his chest mingled with the back of her dress. The woman brought her arms up and around his neck and ground into his pelvis. He didn’t mind the pleasant sensation in his groin but ignored it for the time being. What he did mind was the fact that she was being too inviting. Takaba thoroughly appreciated a challenge. Kou might like her.

The pants and dress shirt constricted his movement a bit, so he wasn’t able to stop the woman as she whipped her head toward him, body following along so that her chest was pressed against his. Even with his mind in a narrow haze, the young man was more than sure he didn’t like this.

He couldn’t push her away in fear of being rude, but when she started to undo his buttons, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back. The blonde looked startled but smirked and winked, then navigated away from him through the crowd.

His body was being tossed back and forth as the overwhelming sense of confusion swarmed over. He watched her disappear into the crowd, bodies blocking and impairing his vision. He shook his head and suddenly felt just as tired as he did earlier. He made his way back to the table and gulped down his water.

He decided to scope the area once more, seeing as he really didn’t look at it too much.

The entrance was right across from him. He could tell it was the opening by the long hallway illuminated by red and gray with the word Pandora etched onto the sides. It was a heavy mix of class and modern completed with a little street-styled finesse. The inner workings of the club were like an enormous oval. Tables and the main bar were on the outside of the oval, and the inside was completed with the lights, dance floor, and music equipment. He peered to the right to see the bar. There were no drink ticket machines, meaning the club accepted tabs and cash. He fished his wallet out of his back pocket, glad he hadn’t lost it and walked over to the bar.

It was strange how once you left the inner circle, the music sort of drowned out and blended in with the nonchalant conversations. He reached the bar and sat on a dark red stool. Beside him, a woman chatted away with an older gentleman who smoked on a strong cigar. He occasionally puffed to the side, obviously disinterested.

A tall man with no hair greeted him at the bar, “You look a little young to be here.” He smirked and leaned on the black marble bar top. Takaba forced a small smile at the man. He didn’t feel like conversating right now.

“I can assure you, I’m old enough,” He threw in a small chuckle while trying to catch the attention of the bartender. The man chuckled as well and rested a hand on his shoulder.

He squeezed his hand, “Good to know,” he smirked, “Let me buy you a drink.”

Takaba, definitely more uncomfortable than before, politely declined, “That’s very kind, but I can pay for my drinks.” Freaking weird, he thought and turned back to the bartender, finally flagging him down.

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, not that Takaba noticed, and quickly order for him, “Bartender, joto umeshu on the rocks for this one, I’ll have a warm sake.”

“I appreciate but please let me purchase my own drink.” Takaba sighed, trying not to appear ungrateful. The other man simply laughed, like everything the boy said was hilarious.

“Too late, I’ve already purchased it.” He slid the bartender two ten-thousand yen notes and motioned with his hands, the man took it and bowed, thanking the man and turning to make their drinks.

Akihito looked at the dance floor, trying to see if he could spot Kou or Takato, but it was impossible. Everything was dark with exception of the red and white strobe lights that briefly illuminated the crowd. He smiled slightly at the thought of joining the mass of bodies, but he really was tired.

…the point is just to make sure Takato has a good time. I’ll stay a while longer. He smiled at the bartender and took his drink, sipping on it. The texture was creamy but thin, and he could taste the honey and sugar. The drink smelled as sweet as it tasted, he smiled into the cup and continued sipping it.

“You have a beautiful smile,” the man commented, slurping down his sake. Takaba furrowed his brow at the comment and decided it was time to go back to his table. “Thank you for the drink.” He said and walked back, ignoring the heated stare that burned his flesh.

When he got back to his booth, he faced away from the bar and to the VIP section. It was hard to see from his seat but the area had been stuffed in the back. He noticed a lot of distinguished, shady looking men and women entering the back room.

“Hm,” he sounded into his drink, curiosity now peaked. He kept watching the people, who entered and left, avoiding the dance floor and leaving out the entrance, or some of them did. He was so occupied with watching that he didn’t notice the bald man slipping into the booth with his drink.

He tapped the young man on the shoulder, causing Takaba to jolt. He was glad he didn’t spill the plum alcohol on his shirt, but a little slapped between his thighs.

“Ah, did I scare you? I apologize. I just saw that you were lonely and wanted to keep you company.” The man grinned and Takaba thought he saw yellow stained teeth. He nodded, trying his best not to be rude, and let his eyes wander over to the VIP section. The bald man saw and grabbed his attention once more.

“Mm, the VIP section. Curious, are you? I can get you in.” He smirked, watching as the young man whipped his head around. “I can get you in, for a price of course.”

Takaba thought about how much was in his wallet, “I only have ten thousand yen on me.”

The man threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, “No, not that. I meant I would be honored if you accompanied me.”

“Oh,” Takaba’s face flushed, “Um, okay.” He quickly gulped down the rest of the plum alcohol, not feeling any different in the slightest. The bald man held his arm out but Akihito didn’t go near it. He pretended not to notice and the older man angrily put his arm down. This one was proving to be much harder than the others he would woo into his bed for a night. But he liked a challenge, everyone did.

“My name is Matsumoto Ichiro, what’s yours?” He smiled, nursing the sake in his right hand.

Takaba thought for a moment, “Juba Daisuke.” He strained a tight-lipped smile.

“Eh, Daisuke-kun, what a lovely name.” And Takaba snorted into his hand because the name Daisuke wasn’t lovely or anything special.

There was already a small line of about four people waiting to enter the section. Once Takaba and Matsumoto reached the front the older man didn’t have to say much and they entered the back area. One thing Takaba immediately noticed was all the smoke.

And the stench of cigars and cigarettes.

He coughed into his shirt, which was still buttoned down, “God…” he muttered. Ichiro seemed to take notice and nodded his head. A pretty hostess with a small frame and long cascading hair directed them to a table in the far corner, shrouded by smoke. Just like the smell on his skin, the smoke was sure to soak in the fabric of his clothing.

Ichiro motioned for the boy to slip in their booth first, and Takaba gave him the same strained smile as before. Once seated comfortably in the booth, Ichiro moved his arm above Takaba onto the top of the booth seat and leaned him, but not too much. It was obvious he was creating an atmosphere of romance, but such a thing wasn’t what the young photographer was going to fall for.

He pretended to tie his shoes and scooted his behind further away from the man. The shoes he wore now didn’t have laces, they were slip-on.

“So tell me, Daisuke-kun, what is it you do?” Ichiro waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Takaba suddenly felt like he needed another drink.

He tilted his head to the side, “Hm, I’m a criminal photographer.”

“Oh?” Ichiro raised his eyebrows to the top of his hairline. “Impressive, what type of bad people do you catch?”

Akihito grinned and leaned in, “All sorts of bad people; politics, yakuza, gangs. My list is endless.” It wasn’t, he had about seventy-four cases accredited to him.

Ichiro seemed to take the sudden move as an invitation and rested his hand on the boy’s thigh, “Maybe you could show me this list in private?”

“I…” Akihito drawled, “Need another drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll buy you one,” Ichiro said and slipped out of the booth, offering his hand. Takaba took it and shivered from how nasty the sweat-soaked palm felt. Ichiro thought he was shivering about something else.

He ordered the same as last time and Takaba couldn’t complain. He adored the rich vibrant taste of the plum. The drink was low in acid, so it didn’t upset his stomach by far. Ichiro kept whispering words and gesturing that they should leave to learn more about each other. Takaba kept firm, flirting back – in a way – and using his friends as an excuse.

The more Takaba resisted, the more Ichiro became upset and all at once became furious when the young man excused himself to use the bathroom. The old man had kindly pointed it out but when the other had his back turned, the grip on his glass tightened. That man tempted him with his firm ass suffocation in those tight jeans, shirt buttoned down to the space between his nipples, which poked through the fabric.

He caught the attention of many wealthy patrons by his shameful appearance. He acted as if he didn’t know his allure and hung above the head of the mighty. Ichiro heard the glass crack and set it down on the bar top.

Inside his breast pocket was an odorless powder he used for emergencies. To him, this was an emergency. He couldn’t go another minute see such flushed skin under the dark amber glow of the VIP section. It made his manhood twitch every time he smelled the young man.

“Daisuke,” he mused, “I’ll have to remember that. Juba Daisuke, criminal photographer.” He undid the small pouch of powder and sprinkled the slightest bit into the plum alcohol. He swirled the cup, watching the powder dissolve and set it back into place.

Akihito soon came out, looking worse for wear. He was tired of evading the older man’s advantages and felt weak and could feel his eyes growing heavier. The thoughts of Kou and Takato barely kept him going.

“Ah, Daisuke how was the trip?” Ichiro cooed, handing him the alcohol.

Takaba sipped on it, “Well needed,” he pulled the cup back from his mouth when he felt a little drizzle from his lips and down his chin. He wiped it away, embarrassed and set the cup on the bar top. Ichiro felt his pants tighten at the sight.

“Mm, it’s getting late, I need to go.” Takaba pretended to look at a clock located somewhere in the club.

Ichiro pouted, “But Daisuke, it’s already late. Stay a little longer; you haven’t even finished your drink yet.”

Takaba sighed but relented and picked up the cup. He nursed it in his hands before attempting to gulp down the rest, and placing the glass back down, “Thank you Matsumoto-san, I appreciate everything. Have a good night.”

“Mm, you have a good night as well Daisuke-kun. Be safe.” Ichiro gave a pleasant smile and watched the boy exit. Many eyes were trained on his retreating form as he was swiftly engulfed into the dark stained room. He looked at the cup and smirked. When Daisuke began feeling the effects of the drug, he would be there to save him.

* * *

 “Where’s Takato?” Akihito asked when Kou came back, sweat-drenched and panting.

He sat down and splashed some of the now warm water on his face, “Left with this really petite girl. Super pretty but nothing up here.” He motioned toward his chest. “What happened to you? I didn’t see you around.”

Takaba chuckled, “I was swept away by the crowd and went to get a drink.” He pointed toward the bar with his elbow.

“They didn’t charge you, right? All drinks are free as long as you mention the table number.” Kou said, drinking the water Takato left behind.

“Oh, no some bald guy bought me one – I mean two,” He sighed and yawned, “I’m really tired, Kou.” They walked out of the club. The line had shortened immensely but it was if it had somehow gotten colder over the couples of hours they’d spent there.

Kou nodded, “I’m beat as well. Did you have a good time?” Takaba grinned.

“More than you can imagine. I really like the music, haven’t been to many clubs that play that style.” His eyes wrinkled at the corners just thinking about it. “Hey, can we get something to eat?”

“There’s that Aki, always hungry. McDonald’s is open all night, right? There’s one a couple of blocks that way.” The young man pointed to the left. “You’re paying.”

Akihito agreed with a chuckle and they walked past the bouncers, down the road. Even though it was late, many cars passed them by, illuminating their path in a way the starry night could not. Each time both men spoke, their breaths turned into smoke, wisping away with the light wind that chilled their bones. September was slowly transcending into October, October into November, and so on.

Everything was becoming drier, and before they knew it, the snow would start falling. It was strange how the months went by so quickly. Years rarely felt as long anymore. Takaba didn’t have his own goals in life. He didn’t know what he was going with life. And that thought scared him.

Suddenly, he felt a warm pang deep in his gut. He squatted down, balancing himself on the soles of his feet as the pain transformed into a searing prickling sensation. Kou took notice and got down on his knees. “Hey, are you alright man?”

Takaba shook his head, unable to say anything as the headlights of cars began making his head hurt. Just like his stomach, his head throbbed painfully, pulsating erratically. He groaned and bent over onto his knees. One hand pressed against the cement sidewalk as the other was wrapped around his stomach. “Ngh!” He cried through clenched teeth.

With his eyes wide, Kou shook his friend’s shoulder lightly, “Akihito! What’s wrong? Are you alright? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” He went through his pockets but couldn’t find his cellphone, “Shit, I don’t have it! Aki, do you have yours?”

Takaba shook his head as fast as he could, speckles of saliva hitting the sidewalk. He fell onto his side and writhed, moaning as he clenched his stomach. He had his eyes screwed shut and tears as hot as the pain streaming down the side of his face. He was hot, so hot he could feel his insides gurgling from the boiling temperature.

“B-Breath…” He gasped out, rolling over onto his back. “I-I ca –” A searing pain traveled up his spine, causing him to arch his back. He was suffocating, there was something stuck in his throat, making its way up, but it wasn’t able to slip through his narrow tube.

“Help! Somebody help!” Kou shouted, trying to figure out what was wrong with his friend. Cars passed by but no one looked their way, no one heard them. They were too far gone from the club which was no longer in sight. For a while, no cars had driven by. But soon he heard the rumbling of tires and ran out into the road, seeing the headlights that were headed his way.

“Stop!” He shouted, “Please stop!” He waved his arms and jumped up and down. The car didn’t slow down. He was sure it hadn’t seen him as at all. Kou looked back at his struggling friend, choking and squirm in his clothes, coat throw to the side.

He took a deep breath, tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes at the thought of his friend dying. With one more breath, he ran forward. He ran until the light touched his skin and stood like a deer in headlights, cornered and helpless.

The tires screeched as the black vehicle swerved slightly. Kou refused to move from his spot, and stood, grounded in the middle of the road. What Kou could make out as a BMW finally came to a halt, only inches away from running him over. He let out a large whoosh of air as the tears did spill from his eyes. His heart pounded from the adrenaline.

“I need help!” He shouted, still stuck. “My friend, I-I-I don’t know what’s wrong!”

The front door opened and a tall man with short hair came out. He was blonde, hair color lighter than Akihito’s. Kou shuddered under his glare but tried to match the stare, wiping his tears away.

“Please,” he practically whispered, “My friend, he needs help. I think he’s dying.”

The giant continued to stare at him but lifted up a hand to his ear. After a minute or two, he let the arm fall and walked forward, “Where is he?”

Even though the man was scary, Kou felt a wave of relief wash over him, quickly drowned out by anxiety and fear. “Over here, on the sidewalk!” He ran back to his friend.

“Gah!” Takaba’s throat sounded. He wriggled on the cement, trying to breathe. He didn’t know what was wrong. He couldn’t tell. It was all so painful for him. He couldn’t see. Where was Kou? He could hear shouting in the distance and something else, but it didn’t register. He couldn’t make anything out anymore. Just dark, all of it was dark and blurry.

Someone touched his arm and he jolted. That simple touch was like a thousand needles being pressed into his skin. He could hear murmuring and smell Kou’s cheap cologne. The cold air did nothing to relieve the tension he felt as his muscle continuously tightened and released. He wasn’t sure if he could hold on for much longer.

A pair of thick arms lifted his body, taking the last bit of air he had with them.

He was tired.


	2. 二 - Ni

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and fine. I was stabbed in the arm with a steel chopstick. Hurt like a bitch (still hurts) but it's cool. I think it was an accident. Never put your feet in someone's face, especially if they're Japanese (GODDAMMIT - IT WAS A JOKE AMAYA)  
> Going back to Alaska - where I attend school - on the 14th. I'm excited. 
> 
> Updating a longer chapter next week. Sorry for the short mess.   
> I'm happy to see where this story will take the main characters (and us).  
> Not beta'd.

Blearily, he awoke from what felt like a thousand years of sleep. His body was dreadfully heavy; he could barely feel pressure being applied to an arm. His vision was a blurred mixture of white and yellow, and in synch with his heart was the sound of a monitor, beating steadily, peacefully.

He attempted to speak, to move his mouth, but what came out was the faint ghost of a cold and weak breath. Confusion invaded the gentle throbbing walls of his mind and something boiled in his stomach. His throat clenched and unclenched and he struggled to turn or move. All at once, bile was retched onto his chest. His mouth was sore; the taste - acidic.

“Haa,” Takaba could only pant in a struggle to gain his breath. He closed his squinted eyes and tried to relax, ignoring the terrible fluid soaking into his clothing. His body managed to tilt to the side as a spot began to itch on his lower back.

Teeth gritted, the young man griped the thin, scratchy duvet covering him. It was as heavy as his body and thick. It made his insides hotter, while his skin was cold. He had no other desire than to throw it off and drown in a tub of ice.

Thoughts refused to come to him. He could barely form a word in his head rather than from his mouth, which was now dry and bitter. Wherever he was, was there no one to help? Was there no one to watch over him?

He could hear the machines that whizzed and buzzed and beeped around him. It was calming, steadying, but made him feel mad. Takaba felt confined and restricted. The thought of such a possibly made the sick sensations return.

Was there a fucking rave going on inside his stomach or was he imagining things? His neck bent forward as he heaved another serving of bile on his lap. Takaba managed to lift up an arm and let it fall above his head. He smelled as awful as the vomit.

A soft click drew his attention and he opened his eyes, slowly. The young man was greeted by an older man in a long white coat and dark blue scrubs. He held a clipboard and wore a thin pair of grey glasses that barely fit on the bridge of his nose. The light and general white color of the room bothered Akihito and gave him a headache. Never the less he continued to watch the man as he closed the door and walked over, wincing at the odor.

“Good to see you’re awake, Takaba-san.” He did a once over at the young man’s appearance, “And glad to know that your system is purging.” Takaba knew that if he could, he would have snorted. Instead, what came out was a painful yawp. He stood over the man and pressed the room’s call button to clean up the mess.

The man grabbed a chair and brought it over the bedside, “I’m Doctor Sato. Let’s review your charts,” he when through the chart located at the end of Takaba’s hospital bed. “You were…hospitalized September 15th by a Ueda Kou for…ah…an overdose.”

Takaba blinked a couple of times, “Ova…o-over…dowse?” he managed to ask, grimacing at the sharp pain in his jaw.

“Mhm, a methylenedioxymethamphetamine knockoff; otherwise known as _synthetic_ ecstasy.” Sato-sensei looked down at the chart, “You reacted to the chemical composition very badly and had to be resuscitated a few times. We’ve contacted your next of kin, who are unfortunately unable to make it due to their location in Sapporo, but have asked to be updated regularly on your condition; if that’s alright.”

Takaba nodded. They were his parents; even though this would make them worry and age faster, they had a right to know. His mouth was sore, he tried not to speak. He thought about being resuscitated

“Hm.” Sato-sensei wrote something on his own clipboard, “Due to the shock your system suffered, you went into cardiac arrest and were announced dead for almost eight minutes. You were defibrillated following cardiopulmonary resuscitation and put on oxygen for several days until you could breathe on your own.”

His heart stuttered. He couldn’t remember much but the thought of almost losing his life – _losing his life_ , was terrifying. He could tell his expression showed what he felt. The doctor stood and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He walked over to the window and pulled the curtains back, “You may experience a temporary lost of motor functions, this is normal. You’re healing as best as you can. Everything might feel a little dizzy or heavy, but it will all come back soon.” He looked around the room and opened the door, yelling, “Charge Nurse Hayase, get over here now!”

A tall woman with brown hair in an unruly bun ran into the room, “Yes, Sato-sensei?”

“I called for an immediate cleaning twenty minutes ago. This patient has had to sit in his own fluids for that long, perhaps longer. Clean it, now.” He looked at her, eyes serious but calm.

She looked at Akihito and back at Doctor Sato, “Y-Yes sensei, right away.”

It didn’t take long for the nurse to come back, others with her. They cleaned Akihito, replaced the duvet, and his paper gown. The tension in his body began to alleviate, but not by much. One of the nurses looked back at him with disdain, as if a temporarily cripple grown man shouldn’t be vomiting on himself. Unfortunately, Sato-sensei did not see.

The older man returned the chart to the end of the bed and checked the equipment. “Your blood pressure is a bit high, but that is what’s to be expected.” He squeezed the IV bag and jotted down the amount left on his clipboard. “This bag provides the nutrients needed to ensure a full recovery. Eating is out of the question, I’m afraid. But…” the doctor trailed off, “You should be out of her before the end of the week.”

Takaba breathed in and out, in and out. He took deep breaths that only allowed his stomach to rise and fall, not his chest. His throat was painfully dry and hurt every time air touched his pipes. He wheezed through his nose, which hurt just as bad. “Howl…log…?”

Doctor Sato furrowed his brows in confusion, “Howl log? How long? How long have you been here?”

Takaba nodded.

“Five days, Takaba-san, including Saturday morning in which you arrived. It’s Wednesday afternoon, you should be out before Sunday if not sooner.” He looked out the window and sighed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other patients I must attend to. I’ll send someone to check on you within the hour.”

Akihito refused to look at the doctor as he shut the door behind him. A strong, abrasive and overwhelming sense of dread flooded his veins. Five days, he’d been hospitalized. He had been presumed dead for eight minutes and drugged. He blinked, trying to wet his dry eyes. Everything was unbelievable; moreover, too much to fathom in one sitting. There was an unsettling amount of pain in his chest as flashes of that night began to resurface.

Takaba could remember choking, struggling, scared beyond his wits as Kou panicked beside him. He remembered being touched and wanting to die from how painful such contact had been. He recalled how hot he had felt and how his insides had turned to mush.

And he definitely knew the only person who could’ve have done such a thing.

“Mufh!” He spat out. _Fuck_ , was what he was trying to say. He had been so foolish to accept a drink from that man. He’d had two glass of the same drink and wondered if that’s when Matsumoto Ichiro slipped in whatever the hell it was.

Akihito knew it, he knew there was something wrong with that man and foolishly let himself play along. He _knew_ , by the churning in his stomach, that baldy was up to no good. No man pursues another man like that without something in mind.

_I had a second cup…I had a second cup because the first was good. I let him buy me a drink, twice. This is my entire fault!_ He thought; fists clenched in anger. _I did this to myself. I should have been more firm with my decisions instead of letting him do as he pleased!_ He could feel the sadness and the anger conflicting inside him, seeing which would conquer.

“Fash, wah tinered…” He slurred. _But I was tired_.  

His face contorted into an expression of pure agony. Two tears trickled down his dry skin, soaking into his cheeks. His neck cracked as he tried to bend forward, only succeeding in making his back hurt. “Aha, aha…” he panted. Takaba pursued his lips and made soft _woo_ sounds. Shaking, both hands gripped the thick plastic sides of the hospital bed and he managed to lift himself upwards, body trembling violent.

Akihito suddenly felt nauseas again, but swallowed it down. He looked over, still lifting his body up, and found the remote to move the bed around. He let go of the bed and supported himself with his right elbow while attempting to reach for the remote.

Once the light object was in his hands, he collapsed altogether and pressed the up arrow. The bed began to move up and as it did, the young man’s tender muscle screamed in pain. He bit his lower lip to keep quiet. His spine cracked multiple times but he bent his neck back and looked up.

It was all utterly painful, moving that is. The young man flinched and grimaced many times as he attempted to sit upright.

But the pain was a perfect way to take his mind off of things. He didn’t want to think about suffocating…what it felt like to lose himself, to lose control of the one thing he treasured. Takaba had been humiliated and tossed around. He knew what he had to do.

Akihito looked at the floor, tiled and dull. He wrinkled his nose and huffed stiffly, ignoring the kinks in his back and neck that refused to pop and crack. Patches and tubes attached to skin pulled him back as his body hung over the edge of the bed.

A minute later and the tubes snapped, machines reacted quickly, beeping loudly and obnoxiously. He cringed and hoped nobody heard. The floor was cold and suited his temperature well. Takaba pressed his face against the floor and sighed. When had he ever experienced such relief in his life?

“Mng…” He moaned, head pulsating. His back ached severely.

Akihito arched his spine, indulging in the faint _crack_ that followed the act. The relief was momentary, because he felt the same twinge that’s been there all morning. Not that it really mattered. This agony was better than confronting the truth. He would have to really acknowledge it soon, but not now.

Managing to support his weight on hands and knees, shaking limbs and all, Takaba crawled over to the door and grabbed onto the handle. It twisted and started to open but pressed his weight against it. The door slammed close.

“Ow…” He whined, biting his lip so hard blood formed and stained his front teeth. The metallic, salty taste caused a series of violent shivers to crawl back and forth up his spine, dancing along the ridges of bone and cartilage. Feet dragged behind as his lifted his body up, still using the door knob as support and pressed a knee on the door.

The left foot slid until it was positioned underneath his ass. He used the side of his foot to support the rest of his weight as the knee on the door bended upwards, as well as the rest of him.

The young man was finally on his feet, shaking, trembling, overwhelmed once more, but on his feet. And this time he was able to do something by himself, feeling completely weak but not letting others take responsibility for his state.

His mouth felt hollow but his cheeks were weighty and caused his mouth to form words slowly. He still wouldn’t be able to talk coherently for a while. The young man decided to exercise those muscles later.

_Why me?_ The words embedded themselves deep. _Why me?_ Was a good question, one that unfortunately, would have to wait to be answered. The young man knew he would struggle with the words, questioning his fragile state of mind. _Why me? Why me? Why me?_ It was all that chose to plague his mind. Inside, part of Takaba was upset it was him and not somebody else, but all the while – he would never wish such a fate on somebody else, someone innocent.

All the while, acceptance was far and few between. Something like this couldn’t be pushed to the side and swept under the rug. It had to be dealt with, thoroughly and correctly.

“Mph,” Takaba let the sound escape through his throat. It was strange how his knee pulsated in chorus with his head. He could feel his muscles straining to keep up with his desires, bending and stretching to satisfy his will. He walked.

He walked over to the tiny white cabinet in front of his bed and groaned into the blood trickling from his lip. Everything hurt so much. His skin rippled with the sensation of hundreds of needles poking into his soles, as if his body needed to remind him that he was alive. Nausea came and left in waves, each time tricking the young man into a weary sense of relief and then back to the sickening gut wrenching mess in his abdomen.

As he feel from trying to keep up, a sob escaped his throat.

The young man lay on the ground, eyes boring into the floursent lights that burned his irises. His chest pumped forward as another puff of air was released. He took a shuddering breath in, the lights blurring into a bright mass. The sobs turned into full blown wrecked bawling. He thought he was strong enough to work through it. He thought he could handle all of…of _that_ at once and just – be done with it. But that wasn’t the case at all.

Fuck, it all came down at once. He wasn’t prepared for any of it. He had been _drugged_ , almost _died_ , is in _terrible_ pain, and doesn’t have _insurance_. Oh God…how much was the bill going to cost him? He was a poor, self-employed freelancer for goodness sakes! Couldn’t the world have decided to do this when he had a little money and wasn’t broke as fuck?

_What am I going to tell my parents?_ He thought. _What am I going to tell my boss? What am I going to tell Kou and Takato?_

His hands covered his face as he moaned and weeped into the rough pattern of his dry skin. He was so lost, confused, and overall afraid of what would happen next. He didn’t want to feel physically and psychologically impaired every time he saw a man that looked like Matsumoto across the street.

He weeped louder into his hands.

Minutes flew by and he was still on the floor, crying toned down to the occasional whimper. His neck was sore and his back ached. He was tired, even though it was still bright outside. He was tired and mentally fragile. The last thing he needed was a permanent ache in his spine.

He was embarrassed, but glad no on could see, as he crawled back to the bed and lay on top of the duvet. He pressed the call button three times and waited. Blood tricked from the spot where he had ripped the IV out, but it was in small amount. Looking at it though, made him feel quesy.

No one came.

No one came, and he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing today. Thanks for being sweet and great, you guys!


End file.
